Apolonia

by Jamie McGuire

  After class, Benji struggled to keep pace with me as I walked to Gigi's Cafe, just a few blocks off campus. It was our unofficial, completely platonic date spot that we didn't talk about because if we acknowledged that it had become a thing, I would stop saying yes.

  "...so I said, 'Therefore, I was correct. A meteor is a flash of light, not the debris.' It's just ridiculous he wasn't aware of the difference at this level."

  "Agreed," I said before taking a sip of my water.

  I picked at my grilled panini while Benji updated me on his classes, his annoyance with the nerds at Charlie's, and why--even though he was a legacy--there was no way in hell he was joining Theta Tau. He would never give Bobby Peck--the fraternity president, sufferer of Little Man's Syndrome, and Benji's nemesis--the satisfaction.

  "So, I know you said you were a little behind in some of your classes," Benji said. He was fidgeting and clearly leading up to something.

  "So?"

  "So...you want to carve out some time in the evenings to study?"

  "I can't. I have to work every evening."

  "Not every evening," Benji said with a smirk. "If your grades continue to fall, Dr. Zorba will suspend your assistant duties anyway."

  I glared at Benji. "Who said anything about my grades?"

  "I just assumed, when you said you were behind."

  I tried to remember if I'd even told Benji that much. Telling him anything even remotely personal meant fifty questions and relentless attempts to make whatever it was better. Our friendship was comprised of his relentless positivity and chatter and my bitter quips.

  "I don't need your help."

  "Of course not," Benji said, dismissing my comment with a wave of the hand. "I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was hoping to benefit from your genius."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Did you just backpedal?"

  "And flatter you in anticipation that you'd agree to study with me? Yes."

  "Do I look like Ellie Jones to you? Flattery won't help your cause."

  "Ellie Jones?" Benji said, his nose wrinkling. "What made you bring her up?"

  "She moved into the room next to mine."

  "Oh," Benji said. The expression on his face mirrored the way I felt about her new living arrangements. "That's...unfortunate."

  Benji knew that Ellie never missed a chance to insult me. I wasn't sure why she'd chosen me to torture. Mom once told me that people like her were miserable inside, and making others even more miserable was the only thing that made them feel better. I disagreed. Ellie Jones was just an evil, cum-burping gutter slut.

  "So, flattery doesn't work. Will buying your lunch work?" he asked, serious.

  "Yes," I said. What was left of my inheritance was being funneled into Kempton, including a meal plan, but if I didn't avoid the irritating cafeteria at least once a week, I wouldn't be able to handle the pressures of KIT. Gigi's Cafe was my one break from it all, but ten dollars a week on a tiny budget was adding up.

  "What if I buy your lunches as many times as we come to Gigi's as long as you help me pass Dr. Zorba's final?" Benji asked.

  His request made sense. Dr. Z's finals were notoriously difficult, and I could use the extra study time myself.

  "Deal."

  Benji slapped his fingers on the table as if he'd won something. When our food came, I tried to keep my attention on the cars passing by and the pedestrians walking their dogs, anything to keep from making eye contact with Benji. He was too happy anyway, and now that we would be hanging out regularly, his eyes were even brighter, and he couldn't stop smiling. It was disturbing.

  After lunch, Benji and I walked back to my dorm. We agreed on studying twice a week and then up to three times a week during the two weeks before finals.

  "So, we can start tonight?" Benji asked.

  "It will have to be before I start my night at the Fitz."

  "Okay, we can study from three to five p.m. and grab dinner."

  "The cafeteria isn't conducive to studying, and the extra expenditure of takeout defeats the purpose of our lunch deal."

  "I can get dinner. It's not a big deal."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "This is sounding complicated."

  "Not at all. We have to eat. I have to study. What's complicated about that?"

  "Okay, but if anything starts to get messy..."

  "Completely one hundred percent mess-free," Benji assured me. He seemed confident enough.

  "Okay. My last class is over at two thirty, so I'll grab my stuff and meet you at Charlie's."

  "See you then," he said before walking away with a little more skip to his step.

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Benji Reynolds was incorrigible.

  By 2:42, I was standing at the entrance of Charlie's. Pulling out my cell phone, I texted Benji to let him know. But before I could press Send, he opened the door.

  He was wearing a pair of gray sweats, a plain white T-shirt, and green Nike sneakers. His white laces were pristine, as were the white soles. They could have been brand-new, but knowing Benji, he probably took a toothbrush to them every night.

  Benji held open the door and pulled my backpack from my shoulder at the same time. His biceps bulged as he moved, and it bugged me that I noticed how his skin rippled over the muscles and veins running through his thick forearms. It was probably just because I'd never seen him in a short-sleeved shirt before. Definitely not because anything about Benji could catch my eye. Or at least, that was what I was telling myself.

  "Sorry you had to wait out here. I wasn't expecting you so soon," he said.

  "Why? I said I was coming right after class."

  I walked into the lobby of Charlie's and glanced around at the drab furnishings, wood paneling, and posters only a dork could appreciate, such as No, Sterile Neutrinos Haven't Been Castrated and Val Kilmer wearing bunny slippers and an alien antenna headband. It all created an atmosphere that matched the blank expressions of the handful of students sprawled out on the worn couches and chairs. Some were watching the small television while others were staring off into space.

  Benji looked up at me from under his brow. "Truthfully, I didn't think you'd come at all. I figured you'd text me with an excuse."

  I kind of liked that he anticipated that from me. "Well, I'm here. Where's your room? I'm going to have to pop some Zoloft if I stay down here much longer."

  Benji slung my backpack over his shoulder and nodded toward a flight of stairs. I followed him up the steps and then to the right and down a long hallway that was just as underwhelming and unpretentious as the lobby.

  Rounding the corner, Benji paused, turned the knob, and swept his arm across his body, gesturing for me to come in. Unlike the doors in the women's dorms, the guys didn't adorn the outside of theirs with dry erase boards or bedazzled letters.

  Benji's room was immaculate and high tech. The bed was on one side of the room under a small window with broken dingy white mini-blinds. His gunmetal gray comforter was perfectly made, complete with military corners. The walls were decorated with rolls of electrical and duct tape and wire mesh.

  The desk on the opposite side of the room spanned an entire wall. One side appeared to be a workbench, complete with a small plastic container filled with even smaller plastic drawers full of tiny components that required the lit magnifier hovering from the ceiling. The workbench also contained an oscilloscope, power supplies, and coils of different types of wire. In the center of the desk, in front of a brown leather office chair, were four open laptops and one single perfectly sharpened pencil.

  Dozens of books and folders were both alphabetized and organized by color in the bookcase that rested inside the long desk on the other side of the room. The books were backlit with blue LED lights glowing through frosted panels that lined the backs of the bookshelves.

  On the other side was a pivotal LCD monitor that, because of the movies stacked beside it, appeared to double as a home theater PC.

  "I control that via remote and can check email from my
bed," Benji said.

  Even the walls were customized with white panels. I glanced at Benji, silently asking for an explanation.

  "They're backed with multicolor LED lights."

  "For what? Mood lighting? Housing allowed you to do this?"

  "I get bored," he said. "And I didn't ask Housing. They would have said no. If they find out, I'm sure they'll take it all down."

  "And kick you out of Charlie's and probably every other campus residence."

  Benji pulled out one of two chairs parked at his desk. "Would you like to do it here, or do you prefer the bed?"

  "Excuse me?" I choked out.

  My surprise wasn't because I was a virgin. Quite the opposite. After my parents died, I became a statistic, rebelling and giving myself to anyone--male or female--who didn't mind if I lost myself in him or her for an hour or so. The thought of Benji proposing something like sex so casually was unsettling though. He was predictable, and I needed him to stay that way.

  "Do you prefer to study at a desk or the bed?"

  "Desk," I said, pulling out my own chair. I sat and took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline soak back into my system.

  I cracked open the first book, Frontiers of Astrobiology, and pulled my notes from my backpack. After Benji finished comparing our notes from the last two classes, we silently read the chapters we were assigned, only stopping when Benji had a question.

  At four thirty, someone knocked on Benji's door. He smiled and hopped up from his chair. It was then that I noticed a two-foot-tall plastic ear hanging from the back of the door. I watched him as he walked across the room and opened the door, greeting the skinny, pimple-faced kid holding two small paper sacks. Benji reached into his pocket and handed him some money, and then he kicked the door shut, tossing me one of the bags.

  "What's this?"

  "Dinner, remember?" he said, bending down to the small refrigerator nestled under the desk. He pulled out a bottle of water and twisted open the cap before setting it on the desk in front of me.

  "Oh," I said, unrolling the top of the sack. I peeked in, and the pungent smell of Chinese food saturated my senses. My mouth began to water. I didn't realize that I was hungry until that moment. "Thanks."

  "You like chicken fried rice, right? Extra soy sauce?"

  "I do," I said, more than a little surprised he knew that. We'd never gone anywhere together but Gigi's Cafe.

  After finishing the last of my rice, I wiped my mouth with the napkin at the bottom of my sack and threw away my trash.

  "I'd better get going," I said. "Thanks again for dinner."

  Benji beamed. "Anything in particular you want for next time?"

  I shook my head as I packed my things. "Just whatever. Beggars can't be choosers."

  "You're not a beggar. It's a barter system."

  "I'll eat whatever you're buying."

  "What if we went out sometime? For dinner. You can drive."

  Benji knew I didn't have a car. What he meant was, he'd let me drive his yearling Ford Mustang that was orange with black racing stripes. The engine roared, and everyone could hear him coming. It was his high school graduation present from his parents, and in my opinion, they were hoping it would score him a girlfriend who had an appreciation for expensive things and a nice, reputable family. Unfortunately for him, he had a thing for invincible, mean weirdos.

  "No, Benji. See you tomorrow."

  "It won't be a date. It's the same thing as today. It's just geography."

  "Not gonna happen."

  "Mess-free, remember?" When I didn't answer, he changed his approach. "Lunch then?"

  "Sure," I said, trying not to think too much about the hopeful smile on his face as I shut the door.

  I leaned back against the wall. He was cute, and I liked spending the afternoon with him far too much. I was getting to know him too well. And he smelled too good. Caring was dangerous, for both of us.

  The door swung open, and Benji popped into the hall with my bottle of water in his hand.

  "Rory!" he called, realizing too late that I was next to him.

  I stood up straight, trying to pretend I wasn't just feeling sorry for myself and struggling with my emotions. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my lips.

  "What?" I snapped.

  "You forgot your water," he said, taking a step back and then handing the bottle to me. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine. You're just exhausting."

  Before he could respond, I walked away. Even pretending not to care felt more empowering than the messy cluster of fucks I was giving two seconds before. With every step, the internal conflict disappeared, and the perpetual state of bitchiness that I was used to took over.

  "Sorry," Benji called just as my fingers touched the door handle.

  And just like that, with that one word, he pulled me out of my comfort zone and back to feeling guilty with a twinge in my chest. I pushed out the door and walked straight to the Fitz, my breath rising up in front of me in white clouds.

  Whatever the reason Benji had for liking me, it was the wrong reason. If I had to tell myself that a thousand times a day, I would. If that wasn't enough, I would remind myself that getting involved with Benji would inevitably hurt him, and if I cared about him enough to even entertain the thought of ruining his life by giving in to his stupid crush, I should care about him enough to push him away. I was messed-up. A sob story. A charity case.

  Maybe that was why he liked me? He felt sorry for me. That thought, true or not, erased any mushy bullshit going on in my head.

  Whatever works.

  The lab door crashed behind me as I made my way to my stool.

  "Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?" Cy said from behind his computer.

  I didn't answer him.

  "What is that saying? You'll catch cold?"

  "Germs cause colds," I said, picking up my first sheet of data. "It's an old wives' tale, like having wet hair outside in winter can make you sick. That's not true either."

  "Old wives' tales have a touch of truth."

  "Did you record these isotopic signatures?" I asked, standing and holding up the page in my hand.

  Cy looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Not yet."

  "They're important, you know."

  "I know."

  "Then, why are you dicking around with transcriptions?"

  Cy took off his glasses and placed them carefully on his desk. He didn't speak. He just watched me.

  "I'm angry!" I yelled.

  "I sense that."

  "Then, why are you staring at me? Shouldn't you be asking me what's wrong?"

  "You wouldn't tell me."

  "So?" I yelled again, breathing hard. I collapsed onto my stool. A full minute of silence filled the room before I spoke again, "I'm calm now. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," Cy said, returning to clicking on his computer.

  TWO WEEKS INTO OUR STUDY AGREEMENT, Benji was staring at me, waiting for a different answer.

  "Still no," I snapped, a little perturbed he wasn't accepting my answer and letting it go.

  He grinned. "You just said you needed a change of venue."

  "We can't study at The Gym."

  "We can do whatever we want."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Is that a yes?" he asked.

  "No. It's still a no."

  "Just once. Come with me once, and I'll never ask you to go again. I'll throw in a freebie dinner, one you don't have to study with me for."

  "What am I? A food whore? I said, no."

  Thirty minutes later, we were at The Gym. I was in a loose-fitting Rolling Stones tee, black leggings, and high-top Converse, poking buttons on a treadmill and fantasizing about where I would eat my freebie dinner. Benji was next to me, jogging along, spouting information from that day's notes. He wasn't even out of breath, and he was wearing the T-shirt I liked best on him. It was maroon with yellow lettering that said, Come to the dork side. We have Pi.

  I clicked a green butt
on, and the treadmill began to move. I held on to the rails as if I were being led to the fiery pits of hell.

  Benji burst into laughter. "It's okay, Rory. It's not going to eat you."

  "You don't know that," I said.

  Benji leaned over and pushed a button a few times.

  "What are you doing? Push your own buttons!" The treadmill began to move faster, and so did my feet.

  I jogged next to Benji at half the pace, but I was already breathing hard. In high school, I was in volleyball. I could run laps all day and barely break a sweat. I even had friends, and they would beg the heavens for my thick, shiny brown hair and perfectly peach skin. Boys had just begun to notice me. Then, I died and came back an angry shaven and pierced pale hermit who gasped for air after slowly jogging for two minutes.

  "How do I turn this off?"

  "You don't," Benji said. "You just go with it."

  "I don't want to go with it. I want to walk."

  "Cardio is good. You never know when you'll have to run for your life."

  I raised an eyebrow. "That's a weird fucking thing to say."

  "Weird but true," he said, facing forward and pushing his own run-faster button.

  I hopped off the treadmill, letting it roll on without me. The water fountain was just a few feet away, so I walked over as slowly as I could without looking crazy to take a drink.

  "You must be lost," Ellie said behind me.

  I stood up, tense, and then turned around, forcing my shoulders to relax.

  "Decided to get a gym membership, did you?"

  "No. Just visiting."

  Ellie made a face. "What on earth for?"

  "I'm here with a friend."

  Ellie laughed once. "Now I know you're lying. You don't have any friends." She patted her neck with a towel. Her perky D-cup breasts perfectly filled out a purple racerback top, as did her ass in the matching capri yoga pants. It was almost as if the gods had made a point to sculpt the perfect body and then were too tired to provide a decent personality.

  Benji passed Ellie and stood next to me. "Want to try the weight machines?"

  Ellie was incensed and crossed her arms.

  Benji noticed her then and nodded. "Hey, Ellie."

  "You brought her here?"

  I looked at Benji, completely confused.